Spirits of the Season
Page 9
I fastened the clasp around my neck, and the locket slipped beneath my shirt. The cold metal touched my skin and instantly grew warm.
As I stood there, my mother’s photo close to my heart, the locket radiated heat.
“I need to go see Lady Azura.” My stomach was turning somersaults. I found her standing by my dad.
I lifted the locket from my sweater.
Dad’s eyes went wide. He turned to Lady Azura. “Natalie gave you that? I thought it was lost.”
Lady Azura nodded slightly. She seemed to be holding her breath.
Dad reached over and touched the angel. “I bought Natalie that locket when we first started dating.” He smiled at me. “I’m glad you have it now, Sara. She would’ve wanted that.”
“When did you—”
Lady Azura shot me a warning look that made me stop speaking.
“Mike, can you make me a plate?” She gestured toward a table piled high with cheese and grilled vegetables.
“You didn’t put this in my pocket either, did you?” I asked Lady Azura once he left.
“No.”
The warmth of the tiny locket spread over my body. A cozy, comforting warmth.
“It’s a Christmas gift.” She smiled at me. “You were visited.”
My mom! I whirled around, looking for her.
“Can you see her?” I asked.
“No, but now you have proof she was here.”
My hand reached for the locket. Maybe I couldn’t see her now, but I had the feeling that someday I would.
A gust of icy wind blew off the ocean and swirled down the back of my neck. I zipped my parka all the way up and pulled my hat all the way down, over my ears.
This was my first East Coast winter. Freezing-cold weather was new to me. I shivered and hugged my arms tightly. Then I scanned the boardwalk, searching for Lily.
Lily Randazzo was many things: a lively, bubbly, warm person; my first-ever best friend; a member of a big, bustling family that had welcomed me, an only child, with open arms.
But here’s one thing Lily was not: punctual.
I leaned against the doorway of Scoops Ice Cream Parlor and closed my eyes. Thank goodness it was Friday afternoon. I’d had a lot of trouble concentrating in school all week. I was ready for the weekend.
For the past several nights, a spirit had been keeping me awake. It was the spirit of a sobbing, long-dead woman, who shared the old house I lived in with my father and great-grandmother.
Just one of the spirits, that is.
I’ve seen spirits since I was a little kid. But last summer, when we moved to Stellamar, I’d started seeing a lot more. My great-grandmother, Lady Azura, can see them too. The sobbing woman spirit lived in a room on the second floor of our house. She’s been there since we moved in, but her weeping and wailing had grown louder and more insistent in recent weeks. I couldn’t get much sleep some nights because of it. This week, it had been most nights.
My phone buzzed. A text from Lily.
SORRY! RUNNING BEHIND, WHAT ELSE IS NEW : )
I texted her back. My fingers were numb from taking pictures without gloves on, so I kept it short.
CU SOON.
I pulled out my camera to snap some pictures. A jogger passed me. She was running with a large, friendly-looking dog on a leash. Snap-snap-snap. I took a series of motion shots of them as they passed me. The light was perfect—late afternoon on a late February day, the shadows rapidly lengthening, the sun dipping low in the sky over the ocean horizon.
Snap-snap-snap. Until recently, I used to only take pictures of objects. Never people. But lately that had changed. I’d joined the school newspaper as a photographer, and most news stories involved people. I had gotten pretty comfortable shooting pictures of people. One more thing that was different about me now.
So much had changed in the past few months.
I scanned the distant boardwalk.
Who was that?
I lowered my camera and peered at the person making his way toward me along the boardwalk.
He was still far in the distance. He wasn’t wearing a coat. Oddly, he did not seem to mind the cold.
I raised my camera. Zoomed in. Snapped a bunch of pictures of him. As he got a little closer, I could see that he was about my age—maybe twelve or thirteen—and that he was very cute, and tall, with shaggy dark hair.
Then a shock rippled though me. I lowered my camera again and stared at the boy.
He was a spirit.
What gave him away to me was the light. All around him, a light shimmered, and the air sort of rippled as he walked. I snapped another picture. He still didn’t seem to have noticed me, so I took a few more.
I hadn’t seen that many spirits my age. Most were old, or at least a lot older than me. I’d have to tell Lady Azura about this. Lately I’d been telling her about all the spirits I saw. It felt good to tell someone. For a change.
Lady Azura was a professional fortune-teller. She had been communicating with spirits for decades. It was all still pretty new to me. She was helping me to understand my powers. That was one of the main reasons we moved to Stellamar. But my dad hadn’t told me she was my great-grandmother until recently. Just this past Christmas.
The spirit moved closer. He was maybe twenty feet away. I definitely had to stop taking pictures of him now.
“Boo!”
I whirled around.
It was Lily, of course.
“I so got you that time!” she said. Next to her were Marlee and Avery, both smiling and shaking their heads as if to say they took no responsibility for what Lily did.
“Yep, you got me,” I said, happy to see my friends. Forgetting all about spirit boy.
“Why are you standing outside? It’s, like, seventy-five below zero out here, and you’re from California!” Lily exclaimed.
“I was just taking some pictures,” I said. “The light is so pretty right now.”
“Light, schmight. You artists.” She held open the door of Scoops and corralled the three of us ahead of her.
“Lily!” yelled the teenage girl behind the counter. It was Dawn Marie, Lily’s cousin. Scoops was owned by Lily’s “uncle,” Paul—not a real uncle, but a close family friend. The fact that he wasn’t an actual blood relation of Lily’s was unusual. Most of the time, you couldn’t throw a rock in Stellamar, New Jersey, without hitting someone who was related to Lily Randazzo.
“What’ll it be?” asked Dawn Marie.
“The usual?” Lily asked, turning toward Marlee, Avery, and me. We all nodded. We usually get the “original” sundae, which comes with two scoops—Dawn Marie gave you extra-big scoops, too.
We made our way to our favorite table.
“So are you pumped for the morp?” Avery asked.
I looked at her blankly. “The what?”
Avery giggled. “I forget how new you still are! It’s the big middle school semiformal. Girls are supposed to ask guys. Morp is ‘prom’ spelled backward. So it’s like a winter prom for the middle school, but with a cool twist.”
I looked at her in horror. Nothing about asking a boy to go to a dance with you sounded cool to me.
“You don’t have to go as a couple,” Lily explained. “But if you do, it just means you have to invite the guy. So are you going to ask Jayden?”
I sat back in my chair. The idea of asking a boy to a dance filled me with dread. Even if the boy was Jayden, who I was pretty comfortable with these days.
“Are you going to ask Jack?” Avery asked Lily.
“I’m not sure,” said Lily. “Jack is definitely at the top of my list. I’m—” She stopped midsentence.
“Don’t. Look. Now,” Lily whispered, leaning in toward the three of us. “But the cutest boy I have ever laid eyes on just walked in.”
I swiveled in my chair.
It was the boy from the boardwalk. The spirit. I whipped around to look back at my friends. They could see him, too! How was that possible?
About t
he Author
Phoebe Rivers had a brush with the paranormal when she was thirteen years old, and ever since then she has been fascinated by people who see spirits and can communicate with them. In addition to her intrigue with all things paranormal, Phoebe also loves cats, French cuisine, and writing stories. She has written dozens of books for children of all ages and is thrilled to now be exploring Sara’s paranormal world.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT
Simon & Schuster, New York
Jacket illustration by Erin McGuire
© 2012 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Jacket design by Laura Roode
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT
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Copyright © 2012 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
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Text by Heather Alexander
ISBN 978-1-4424-5223-7 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4424-5379-1 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-5224-4 (eBook)
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2012934012